


Cracks in the Kingdom

by leporicide



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study, Drug Use, F/F, Horror, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Satanic imagery, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporicide/pseuds/leporicide
Summary: When her eyes finally focus, her mouth twists into something unidentifiable. Her body has changed, the muscles of her arm clearly defined, her hair darker, her face sharper. She looks strong, impossibly so, and beautiful. She looks fucking amazing.“Holy fuck,” she mutters, staring at herself as fingers trace the angles of her lips, the sturdiness of her chest, tracing the ab definition down her stomach. “Holy fuck,” she repeats, reaching down and feeling the firmness of her thighs, the strength in her calves.College is a bitch but at least you can be bitchin' during it.





	Cracks in the Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> yo fucking smite me cause i can't spell  
> @bogboogie on twitter

“You’re getting fat.”

Miki Kuroda blinks, watching the way her mother’s eyes fall to her chest, narrowing before turning away with a scowl. “You could do well to eat less.”

Miki is unable to find her voice, choosing to keep her lips sealed as her mother walks by, putting on her coat and unlocking the door. Finally, she swallows the spit that builds in her mouth. “Understood.” Her mother nods, as if satisfied before leaving the confines of their shared apartment, undoubtedly to the bellhop where the doorman waits for her.

The silence echoes, the old grandfather clock ticking and tocking, as if personally knocking against Miki’s skull with each swing. She counts to ten, in between the pendulum until her heart slows to a steady pace and she releases her breath.

“Fuck,” she mumbles, her shoulders sagging.

There’s a small space where people keep their hearts, Miki’s grandmother used to tell her, a crack in the kingdom of people’s minds, small to the intruder and large to the lover. It’s an honor, her grandmother said, to find this space. Miki had always assumed her mother’s was more of a splinter than anything else.

The fridge is nearly empty when she checks and although disappointing, it’s not the worst of her worries. Nothing her mother could say mattered now, it was only temporary. She won’t be home for much longer, returning to campus for her third year. If she had been told that college would be her safe haven, Miki would have laughed until she cried. Instead, she pours herself a glass of milk, sure to sniff if it’s soured, and deeming it safe, gulping it down and washing her glass when she’s finished.

Her phone buzzes.

_Hey! I saw that we’re going to be roommates this year. What time are you planning to move in?_

“Never,” Miki whispers to no one, making her way to her room, sure to close the door after herself before colliding with her bed. It’s a facebook message, and it takes her some effort to wrestle her computer from the messy sheets and open it up. The bright smiling face of Miki Makimura greets her, nearly glittering with her eyes reflecting the sun.

Her profile picture looks like she took it herself with the beach around her. There’s a person behind her, thin and mildly wimpy but he’s cut off by the boarder facebook imposes. Miki refuses to click on it, doesn’t want to acknowledge Makimura anymore than she needs to.

_Hello. How funny that we share a namesake? I was thinking in the afternoon. I don’t have too many things._

Makimura takes a moment to type, and Miki finds herself counting the seconds with the echoes of the clock.

 _That’s perfect_ the grey text reads. _I will be there in the morning, so I can help you move in_.

Miki narrows her eyes. Of course, she would be willing to help her move in. The Witch of the Track is no stranger to her, rumors of her kindness nearly rival her speed. Apparently, they were true.

 _Thank you_. She replies, waiting until the blue indicates it sent before slamming her laptop shut and staring at the ceiling. The fan is rotating above her, a near constant hum as she watches the blades cut through the air. When Miki had filled out the dorming applications, she had left the roommate assignment blank, out of spite over her own loneliness, something that festered over the year. The parties were fun, _at first_ , and so was the attention she got from others, their eyes always finding home at her chest, but even that has worn her thin. Desperation, more than spite, she realizes by each turn of the fan. She was desperate for something new, a new crowd, an experience. Whatever hailed that college was meant to mean something in her life other than the constant studying.

Miki turns her head so her cheek rests tightly against her pillow, her hair splaying itself across the surface as she breathes through her nose. Makimura, she thinks, mulling her last name over, Makimura was the devil in saint’s clothing, the college sweetheart. Miki thinks she hates her.

* * *

“You’ve gotten fat,” Koda says as he pushes another fry into his mouth, staring at her from across the brightly colored plastic table. He only gazes for a moment, nearly uninterested before turning back to his phone, scrolling through something on twitter that holds his attention.

“Oh,” Miki says, putting her burger down. It isn’t shame that creeps up her spine, she tells herself, but quiet annoyance. She wants to snap at the man, put him down a peg but instead stands up abruptly. “Miki has the dorm set up. I think I’m going to go take a nap.”

Koda finally looks up, catching her eye and smiling. “Let me come too.” Miki’s face sours.

“No.”

He’s already throwing away their trays and slinging his bag around his shoulder. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“You just want to meet her.”

“Of course,” Koda’s grin is absolutely wolfish. “Who doesn’t want to meet the infamous Miki Makimura?”

 _I don’t_ , Miki thinks. “She’s not some spectacle.”

“And _you_ are? Miko.”

Miki’s face colors, a shocking bright red that has people’s heads turning. “M-Miko?”

Koda nods, already moving in the direction of her dorm, sipping idly at the Gatorade in his hands. “Miki number 2, Miko.”

It stings briefly, to so easily be put into another category, a _lesser_ category but still her voice remains tight and quiet, unable to justify her anger by speaking out. She falls into step behind him, face continuing to burn.

Her dorm room is colored by pretty, hand-crafted name tags, both with _MIKI_ in glittered blocky letters. She still never asked which was meant for her. Koda doesn’t bother to knock.

Makimura is sitting, cross-legged, on her bed, a small notebook in her hand and the ramblings of a video playing on her laptop can be heard. She looks up them, startled so the pen that was held between her lips falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Miki,” she grins, catching her gaze. Her attention only lingered on Koda for a brief second, much to his chagrin.

“Hello, Miki,” she replies from the doorway, gently pushing her way past her friend into the room. “Hope we aren’t disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Makimura laughs, pausing the video and waiting for Miki to get settled on her side of their shared space. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Koda, he’s on the—”

“Track team!” Makimura happily supplies, waving from her place in the bed but seemingly making no moves to get up and greet him.

Koda nods before turning to Miki. “I’ll catch you later, Miko.”

“Okay.”

The door closes softly behind him, Miki watching it click with mild amusement, that Makimura had somehow scared the man off. “Miko?” Makimura asks, raising an eyebrow.

Miki suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she plays with the tips of her hair. “Some silly nickname.”

“Oh,” she says after some time, green eyes never leaving their place from watching her. Miki wonders what Makimura is looking for and when she finally glances back to her laptop, she wonders if she found it. “Mind if I keep calling you Miki?”

Something warm burns against her ribs, a slip in her emotions she unfamiliar with. “Sure,” her mouth says but her lips almost mirror _Thanks_.

* * *

The paper in her hands is practically glowing with the font color they picked, Bright pinks and greens litter the ad, sharp curly letters and some devil imagery that has Miki rolling her eyes. “What is this?”

Koda looks up from his biology textbook, eyes weighed down by the bags under them. School has only just begun, and he’s been spending his late nights having _sex_ instead of—

“It’s an invite to this shitty party Ryo Asuka is hosting.”

“Ryo? As in _Ryo Ryo?_ ”

Koda nods, closing his textbook with a sigh and plucking the sheet from her hands. Miki lets him because she’s nice. “Yeah, that Ryo. He’s doing some kinky shit, I guess. And if I’m going,” Koda narrows his eyes. “ _You’re_ going.”

“Wonderful,” Miki mutters, taking the paper back, the bright neon green of SABBATH staring back at her. “It’s not even Halloween.”

“He’s a freak,” Koda lays his head against the table. “Maybe he’s just your type, Miko.”

 _Fuck off,_ her mind says but her mouth moves “Gross.”

“Or maybe,” Koda mumbles into the wood. “It’s Akira Fudo you’ve got the nasty for.”

“Who?”

“That wimp that is often seen with Ryo? What do you mean who? You’re in calculus with both of us!”

“Oh,” Miki hums, trying to put a name to a face and coming up blank.

“You should invite Miki.”

 _I am Miki_ , she screams to no one. Her eyes fall into a passive glance. “She wouldn’t waste her time on something like this.”

“Oh yeah, Miki Makimura is a _lady_. Unlike our Miko.”

Miki quickly packs her stuff into her backpack, watching as the library begins to fill up with students who had just finished their lunch. “I’ll see you this weekend, ya?” Koda calls to her fleeing form. She doesn’t answer but they both know she’ll be there, waiting for him so they could walk together.

When she finally arrives to her dorm, she’s greeted to the nametags having been edited, one of them with a dark black sharpie, turning and I to an O for all the world to see. Miko. Distain bubbles in the back of her throat like bile, burning her eyes as tears threaten to fall down her face. She sucks in a deep breath, unlocks the door and steps inside.

* * *

Makimura left for the weekend, returned home for a family day she said. Miki is grateful, the dorm unnecessarily quiet as she finds clothing for the party. She doesn’t want to stay long and despite the flyers, it doesn’t look to be all that fancy. When Koda knocks on the door, plain T-shirt and jeans, Miki feels at place with her leggings and high school track shirt.

“Really?” is all he says, with an eyebrow raised. Miki ignores him in favor of locking the door. “It makes your boobs look smaller.”

“So?” Miki bites, glaring as they walk down the stairs.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, just as uninterested as he usually is when discussing her figure. “Akira is going to be there. How are you gonna woo him?”

“I’m not wooing anybody,” she hisses, checking her hair as they walk by reflective mirrors. It’s wild but still graceful, the effortlessly messy hair. Koda is rolling his eyes.

The SABBATH is just as the flyers predicted, located in the basement of an old apartment complex, decked in lights and music. There’s a ticket counter at the door, makes them hand over their flyers as they enter. It takes a while for Miki’s eyes to adjust, struggling with the shifting tones and tightly Packed bodies. She can barely make out Ryo, completely dressed in white as he effortlessly moves through the crowd, a young boy Miki realizes is Akira at his tail.

“He looks like a fucking tool,” Koda shouts over the music, glancing in the direction she was facing. Miki nods. “I’m going to get wasted. Find me if you start to think I’m dead.”

“Excuse me?” Miki spins around to face him but he’s already gone, blending into the crowd of party goers, lost in the throngs of humming bodies. It makes her feel sick, it makes her think she’s more alone than she’s ever been.

“Thirsty?” A voice asks, barely above the music and yet, soft spoken. She turns to face a male she hardly recognizes, has grown only familiar with the yellow shades that now rest securely on his head. He’s holding a drink out for her. The confusion on her face must be evident because he grins. “Kakun, we have Statistics together!”

“Right!” Miki shouts over the music. The other man grins as she takes the drink, shyly rubbing against the tattoo on his neck.

“I saw you were coming and wanted to give it a chance!”

“What?” She asks over the blare of techno, Kakun’s face twisting in embarrassment before he breaks out into a laugh. It’s infectious and soon, Miki is laughing along with him, over nothing. It’s over absolutely nothing and yet, it’s everything. She feels as if she hasn’t laughed in years, she feels as if she hasn’t cried in years.

“It’s the best place to talk!”

Miki straightens herself up. “Yeah, it is!”

Neither of them hear the screaming.

* * *

It’s wet. Whatever her hand is laying in is wet and sticky, seeping under her fingernails and undoubtedly staining. She smells it, copper and thick. Her eyes refuse to open though, despite the music having long since stopped and the shouting began to take the place of the bass.

“Miko!” Someone is shouting, frantically pulling at her arm but Miki’s legs refuse to hold her weight, refuse to do much of anything. Her eyes remain closed. “Oh God, Miko. _Oh god_. _Miko._ ”

That’s not my name. She thinks, until she realizes it’s not in her mind, it’s in her voice. She’s screaming.

“That’s not my name!”

* * *

Miki wakes up, Sunday morning, sweat staining her sheets, her hair clumped on her forehead. She’s breathing, heavy and hard as her heart thunders in her chest. It takes her a moment to catch herself, glancing around the room to realize she’s in the dorm. She searches around her mind, trying to piece together what happened, why she’s here. Only blanks, her memories seemingly misplaced.

She is shaking though. Miki raises her hands, watching as the fingers rapidly twitch with each unsteady inhale. Something doesn’t feel _right_ , how did she fucking get back?

Miki kicks off the covers, nearly ripping them from where they were tucked by the underside of her bed as she makes towards the communal bathrooms. She pushes the door open harshly startled by how easily it gives and jumping as it smacks against the wall with a harsh echo. No one is inside it seems, the sensors picking up on her as the lights turn on and she runs to the mirror.

When her eyes finally focus, her mouth twists into something unidentifiable. Her body has changed, the muscles of her arm clearly defined, her hair darker, her face sharper. She looks strong, impossibly so, and _beautiful_. She looks fucking amazing.

“Holy fuck,” she mutters, staring at herself as fingers trace the angles of her lips, the sturdiness of her chest, tracing the ab definition down her stomach. “Holy fuck,” she repeats, reaching down and feeling the firmness of her thighs, the strength in her calves.

She falls to the floor, sitting on the cool tiles as her hands twist before her. “What happened to me?” She asks no one, and when no one replies, she hoists herself up with the sink to glance at herself one more time.

 _You’ve gotten fatter_ flitters across her mind, cruelly and mocking, but Miki feels no sadness. A smirk finds home on her cheeks, her teeth looking sharper, her eyes looking stronger. “Maybe so,” she laughs. The sound of it catches her by surprise. “Kakun,” she realizes, slowly piecing together a hazy thought, soft enough to escape through her fingers.

The clock above the door reads 3:00 AM, too early to be skulking outside for a man she barely knows, let alone even lives on campus. When she returns to her dorm room, greeted by the name tags at the door, something compels her, a monster urge she couldn’t explain, as her hand reaches out and rips the MIKO from the door. She crumples it in her hand, throwing it out in the waste bin of their shared room.

The stories of the cracks in kingdoms were true, her grandmother was right, for in that moment Miki feels hers grow smaller.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> why are you hesitating?


End file.
